


Two Rooms and a Baby

by CaffeinaShips



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #some mentions of off-screen violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:12:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14343897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinaShips/pseuds/CaffeinaShips
Summary: Team Free Will stays at a motel and disrupts another room.





	Two Rooms and a Baby

The desk clerk at the Sleepy Hollow Motel does not give a shit about your night. He’s not here to verify your license plate number to your room registration, or to initiate his own investigations into unusual noises. He does not know and is not interested in what caused the stain on the bedspread in your room. He’s there to collect his minimum wage, call the police if you don’t check out in the morning, and maybe bring you new batteries for your tv remote if you call and complain. If he has the batteries, which currently he doesn’t. He’s watching reruns of Star Trek Next Generation on the lobby TV and eating the stale danish he was supposed to put out for guests in the morning. He knows the air conditioner in your room is broken and the tub backs up, but he also knows there aren’t better rooms to put you in. What do you want? There are 3 other motels within 5 minutes of here, none of them fully booked, and you went with the cheapest. With the money you saved you can buy your own AA batteries and breakfast pastry. He is sick to shit of being asked if they charge by the hour. No one really does that. It’s not a damn brothel. 

So if there happen to be a dozen motorcycles parked out front and only a handful of rooms rented you can bet your ass the clerk isn’t doing that math. If they happen to be parked next to a shiny black immaculately kept muscle car from the 60s you can count on the clerk to give 0 shits about whose car it is. If a dozen celestial beings happen to all be crammed into one room that barely fits 2 double beds well… not his problem. If the room next to that happens to be in the middle of a full throated shouting match? He’ll pretend to care if someone calls, until then nothing. There are plenty of rooms still available if that guy sleeping in the back seat of said muscle car wants to rent one. Unless he comes in the office with cash or credit (which he won’t) the clerk doesn’t care who squats where.

The celestial beings care however. 364 days out of the year they travel the world wearing leather and chains and smelling like dust and exhaust. This is the one damn day a year they all get together in one place, suspend their usual corporeal forms, swap stories, tell jokes, catch up, and complain about the job. Sure it would seem like tight quarters, but you can never be too snuggly for a cupid. 

Someone’s gotta spread love to the seedier, grittier corners of the earth, and these folks love their jobs. Mostly. Minus the lack of God, and the constant looming existential disasters, and the lack of direction, and the high mortality rate among couples, and angels for that matter. Hell, there used to be three times this many beings per square inch in past convention years. It’s a hard, thankless, restless job and it would be nice to have one damn day to commiserate together without some bullshit Winchester drama.

But somehow, of all the pastel, flowery, bed bug joints in the U.S.A. the Biker Cupids wound up in the room next to the room Dean and Castiel were screaming at each other in. 

In said room Dean was fuming and Cas was incredibly unimpressed. Sam had long ago given up hope of an armistice that would grant him some rest and had decided the backseat of Baby was better than whatever this was going to be. Sam was sleeping comfortably. Dean wasn’t, and Cas never did. 

“I don’t care what your motives were” Cas shouted at the back of Dean’s head “Your actions were selfish!”

“I had a chance to keep you safe and I took it!” Dean shouted at Cas, turning to face him. “I’m not sorry. You were just resurrected by an Entity of Nothingness a few months ago! It’s too soon to risk you again!”

“That is not your call to make! It is my life, and my choice. If you are allowed to choose to jump through tears in our dimension then I am allowed to choose to jump through tears in our dimension! You promised me you would tell me when you were going and you did not! You lied to me! And you took Ketch instead.”

“You’re right.” Dean threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I lied to you. To keep you here. I took the most expendable person we had, and I knew Sam needed you here. I did what was best for everybody. I’m sooo sorry I did what I had to do.”

“Not Everybody. You did not do what was best for me. It is not best for me to sit here with no idea if you are alive! It is not best for me to be treated as a sidekick you can toss aside when you want to go on an adventure and play hero!” 

Cas deployed some incredibly sarcastic air quotes around the word Hero. 

“It is not best for me when you remove my ability to make that choice for myself! How can you think that it is ok to make that choice for me?!”

“Damn It Cas, you are my family! You aren’t a sidekick, you aren’t expendable like Ketch, you are... part of my family!”

At the second use of the word Family the celestial beings let out a collective groan. 

“Hands up anyone who has personally shot those two idiots with their own arrow” Big Frank, as he is known to humans, quirried the group. All but three hands went up.

“Angels who interact with them have a habit of dying” replied Duke. “I’m not going anywhere near them.” 

The other two abstainers nodded in agreement.

“What the fuck is it going to take?” Asked Butch. “I swear I’ve hit them twice.”

“I mean we’ve all encountered stubborn closet cases before, but this is like nothing I’ve seen. It’s like they’re immune or something.” Nine Fingered Bill mused. 

“They’re not immune, they’re just too stupid to recognize love when it beats them over the head” Cherlynye retorted.

“Honest to Father, I wish we could beat them over the head” Jessie, one of the abstainers huffed. 

Mitzy-Anne started to giggle. “Oh Brothers and Sisters, I just got a wicked idea. It’s against protocol for sure, but in these times who keeps score anymore?”

Under the sounds of shouting through the wall the Angels decided to take back their vacation day with just a minor bit of magic. Nothing too evil, just not strictly Heavenly. They metaphorically held their breaths and waited to see if it worked.

Inside the office the Clerk was texting his parents about borrowing their car for the weekend and watching Data totally misunderstand what emotions are. Outside the office a jaunty mascot in checked pants was becoming solid and stepping away from the wall on which he previously hung. He gripped his walking stick firmly. He was not alive, but he was filled with Glorious Purpose. One sole, all enveloping purpose. He was to beat two specific idiots over the head until they admitted their love for each other. Maybe not kill them, but you know, beat em real good. It was a Good mission.

The Angels metaphorically let out their collective breath when they were blessed with the sound of arguing cut short as a door is kicked in. They heard a loud bellowed command

“Love Each Other!” 

Followed by a banging, thumping, crashing commotion. Followed by the command repeated. Followed by more crashing, grunts and curses. The sounds of conflict and the bellowed command to LOVE EACH OTHER. 

The sound of a dozen Angels laughing hysterically filled the tiny room and rang into the Heavens. It was a good cupid convention at the Sleepy Hollow at last.

**Author's Note:**

> I used to be a front desk clerk at a super seedy motel. I loved that job. I miss it all the time. I took the opportunity to write something purely for the fun of amusing me.


End file.
